


Ending Together

by Ecila



Series: One-Shots [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex, Smut, blowjob, handjob, louis drunk, louis surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecila/pseuds/Ecila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis should never be left alone... because he then gets bored. And Harry has to deal with the aftermath... and he is shocked and then cries in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ending Together

**Author's Note:**

> This "happened" in the spur of a moment... it's basically just... fluff :D
> 
> Also, I don't have a beta, I didn't proof-read and I hope this isn't utter shit. I sort of liked it to be all honest.  
> Hope you do too.  
> So, the moment I had it finished (typed up) I posted.. which explains grammar and what-not mistakes. Bear with them, yeah? :)
> 
> Aaaaand ENJOY THE FLUFF (and smut :D)

Louis leans against the window and breathes out a puff of air, frowns when seeing that no one is home and he’s alone. Louis is one of those people you should never leave alone. Never. He doesn’t like loneliness, can’t bear it. He then gets bored. And that is about the worst that can happen to anyone, because Louis Tomlinson bored can be life changing. And not always for the better. So when Louis finds himself, one day, by himself, his friends out of reach, even laundry and dishes done, he is left with a lot of paint and alcohol in his dresser and a whole lot of spare time and he is so bored that his cobalt eyes light up the moment an idea of passing time hits him and he jolts off the black couch.

*  
Harry enters his flat rather loudly, shouts happily, “Lou, M’home!” and expects an answer that never comes. Instantly a frown takes over his features, replacing the smile that had been on his lips before, as he stops dead in his tracks by the silence that greets him. This is definitely not normal. It is quite. Far too quite. And an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach and he starts running, shouts Louis’ name with a degree of shrillness in his usually raspy voice.  
“LOUIS! WHERE ARE YOU! BOO, PLEASE—” he halts abruptly at the stairs, when finding a layer of dark blue staining the upper half of the stairs and he bites back a gasp, when he starts taking several steps at once, making his way up and trying to avoid the wet, aqua paint on the ground, frowns when realizing it’s their car-paint. The one that promises to withstands any sort of water and any form of erasing and will ‘keep the colour on your car’ and in their special case on their stairs. Well shit.  
Harry arrives at upstairs and takes in the mess. Clothes are messily shoved into their bathroom –only god knows why– and shit, a dark red trail of car paint stains the way to their bedroom. To their bedroom. Harry’s favourite room. And Harry bolts into the room expecting the words with a cold feeling in his stomach.  
His jade eyes widen to the size of saucers when taking in through the moonlight’s dim shine what his lovely boyfriend had done. And he can’t breathe. “Shit, Lou…” Harry’s voice cracks, when taking all lines all over their room in, every fine curved line, every edgy form and he feels a lump form in his throat.  
On the floor, eyes red from the alcohol, sits his lovely and stupidly gorgeous boyfriend, smiles all lazy and drunk, when he waves toward him and he giggles and spreads his arms out wide, motioning to his masterpiece that used to be their normally-coloured room. “What’cha think Haaaazzaaaa?” Louis’ voice sounds, slow, droopy and adorably soft.  
Harry can’t speak, tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but he feels tears forming in his eyes. This is too much. This is overwhelming this is… and then Harry bolts toward Louis, stumbles right on top of him and engulfs him in a tight hug and sniffs into his drunken boyfriend’s ear. “Shit, I love you so much…” he whispers because it’s the truth and he does. He really does.  
“Yeah?”  
Despite being drunk, Harry can hear the joy in his lover’s voice and nods his head vividly, “F’course I do…” he laughs through tears that settle in his eyes, because even drunk, even fucking drunk –and even Louis wouldn’t be, let’s call it “creative”, creative enough to, well for lack of better word, create this in a sober state– even fucking drunk Harry is apparently all Louis thinks about. And since fucking when can his perfect boyfriend fucking paint? Everything is too perfect and overwhelming and Harry laughs into Louis’ shoulder when he whispers, “You remembered everything?”  
Louis breathes in Harry’s scent, nods his head slowly, “’course I do,” his words jumble together, but the sincerity shining through and Harry can’t take it, beams at the love of his life and smiles so wide through his tears it’s just not real.  
Harry doesn’t know where to start, what to say, but when he realizes his boyfriend’s silence takes on and on, he decides to break it, “You painted birds.” It sounds stupid and silly, but the smile that Louis regards him with confirms to him everything he already knew. Louis didn’t paint just any birds. He drew their birds. Their confirmation of their love on each other’s skin, inked deep. Their ‘love birdies’. Next to it, stood in quotation marks “two lil’ birdies…”, a quote Harry clearly remembers himself saying when talking to Ellen Degeneres of The Ellen Show and he thinks he might burst from the joy he feels pulsing through his veins, when he struggles back to his feet and rushes to their door, suddenly needing to see his boyfriend’s masterpiece in full light.  
Seconds later the light is turned on and Harry is speechless. What looked like random shades was actually a red thread that wound its way in curvy lines from one end of the room to the other. In-between the red thread that grew thicker and thinner at times, where dates listed, paintings of a ship, a compass and many quotes that Harry didn’t know he remembered until reading them.  
Their plenty slipups during interviews and in the press. All words they said in public and played off as their usual ‘playful banter’ that were the only form of confirmation they dared giving to the world.  
“I think he’s always wonderful…” -L  
“I’d definitely date Louis…” -H  
“This year my valentine is… you.” -H  
“And I’d marry you, Harry. Because it rhymes.” -L  
“Mutual… we’ve discussed it.” -H  
“…I’m being slowly seduced by your curls…” – “That was my plan all along.”  
“Now kiss me you fool.” -H  
“I’d take Harry for the night. However I’d still struggle with handling him at night.” -L  
“this venue is quite special to me…” -H  
“behind closed doors something else goes on…” -L  
“You’re on a whole new level of charmer…” -L  
“I’d like to describe him more as funny and handsome and rugged. And a bit more manly.” -H  
“I met you in the toilet.” –L  
“Who wouldn’t love him?” -L  
“Until I find the perfect girl, I have Louis.” -H  
“Good lad, good lad… nice little body.” - L  
“Boobear” -H  
“My first real crush was… Louis Tomlinson” – what many people didn’t hear, but Louis whispered one day into Harry’s ear during one interview anyways, was his response. “And I intend to be your last.”  
He had dates. For every quote, for every painting and Harry felt the tears running down his face, because shit. Shit. Louis was too perfect and Harry can’t suppress the soft sobs that escapes his quivering lips when he tries to think, tries to think passed the warm urgent love that pools in his stomach and he makes those pathetic grabby motions toward Louis, because he can’t move, is frozen in shock and amazement and so filled with love for his boyfriend that the tears won’t fucking stop. They just continue falling from their own accord, but Harry is too overwhelmed to care. He just wants Louis right fucking now and then his eyes cloud further, when he sniffs loudly and reads at the very end of the red thread a few words, longer than the other quotes and he tries to read properly, squints his eyes and tries to see properly through his tears.  
And because he can’t fucking understand the words, too hard for his mind to process, he mumbles the words aloud and is surprised when he finds Louis speaking along. “Dear Harry Styles, you won my heart over, when you first fell over and started laughing. You locked my heart, when your eyes crinkled by the sides and your goofy grin was all I saw. You had my heart for 3 years now and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. I don’t want it back, because I want it with you. I want to be yours. Forever. If you let me. Harry Styles, I love that you actually destroyed your new sneakers to make them look worn, I love that you laugh so booming and loud and realize too late that everyone is watching you, I love that you love about those idiotic, not funny jokes and I love that you love me. Give me the chance to prove that I can make you happy for a life time. Marry me.”  
And then Harry properly cries, when he hears the soft whisper of Louis’ velvet voice in his ear, feels the soft breathing right on his face and stares into the intense depths of rich sapphire that had him entranced from the very first second.  
Louis smiles, so real and stupidly damned real that Harry can’t think, can’t speak and simply leans forward to connect their lips, because it feels right and it’s supposed to be like that.  
The kiss deepens, tongue slipping into Harry’s mouth and Louis invades Harry’s space, moves, because Harry clearly doesn’t, shoves them against the dried colourful wall that reflected the journey of their lives and his petite fingers found its way under Harry’s shirt, softly caressing the abs that were still on the way of properly developing, lips moving feathery light when leaving Harry’s lips to fix on his neck instead. First steady, little pecks to his skin, then opened mouthed wet kisses followed, until Louis started sucking onto the familiar spot, he discovered as Harry’s sweet spot long ago.  
Harry gives in to the pleasure, moans softly, while he slumps back against the wall and buries his fingers into Louis’ chestnut hair, eyes closing to take in the pleasure to its full extend. Louis’ lips slowly trail along Harry’s jawline, as he bites and sucks, making sure to pain the younger lad, before licking over the small bruises with a smile.  
Harry, his pants already awfully tight, instinctively moves his hips upwards, rutting his abdomen against Louis’ to feel some form of friction, and he groans, when finally, he feels Louis’ hard-on responding to his own, their motions anything but graceful, when they grind into each other, erections pressing into another and both meaning into each other’s skin. Louis’ lips bruised along Harry’s jawline, close to his chest, while Harry had his head thrown into Louis’ hair, inhaling his unique scent and moaning and groaning lowly.  
Without much grace Louis pulls away, gets a tight grip of Harry’s shirt and rips it open, a smirk flitters over his features and he watches Harry’s eyes go wide. “Thought it’d turn you on…” he whispers, anything but apologetic, before his fingers start fumbling at Harry’s zipper and his lips attach along Harry’s sweet spot once more. He smiles, when Harry grants him those inexplicable moans and his fingers instinctively thread through his feathery hair to pull softly.  
The feathery-haired boy pulls his own pants down, because fuck, it’s straining his hard-on a lot. And then, fast as ever, takes only seconds to pull down Harry’s tight skinny jeans and his briefs down and smiles at the sight that welcomes him; Harry’s cock high and tall and aching. Unconsciously licking his parted lips, Louis’ eyes set on Harry’s hard-on and he slowly slides along Harry’s body to the ground, making sure to rub his whole body against Harry’s, who in return moans deep and guttural.  
Within instance Louis is on his knees and smiles lovingly at Harry’s erected crotch, “Hey there,” he breathes, making sure that his warm breath hits Harry’s sensitive cock and smirks, when it visibly twitches. He then leans forward, pecks Harry’s cock lightly and looks up at Harry, knowing the younger lad is burning and aching.  
Harry does the only thing possible, jerks forward and hisses as a pleading mess, “Lou, please… just… just…”  
Louis understands, and not wanting to torture his love any longer, he grins, lowering his lips on Harry’s crotch and taking him into his mouth, covering Harry’s whole length with his stretched mouth in one go and Harry groans in utter surprise, eyes widening the same moment the sucking starts and his jade depths roll back in pleasure as he groans louder, fists instinctively Louis’ hair and presses his head deeper onto his hard-on.  
Louis, doing his magic, sucks and swirls his tongue along the sensitive underside of Harry’s cock, lets his fingers dance in feathery touches over Harry’s balls, massaging them and squinting them playfully, until he feels Harry panting, body reacting so sensitive to his every move and his loverboy instinctively shoving his shaft forward, fucking into Louis’ mouth.  
Louis moans, lips vibrating around Harry’s cock and the movement causing Harry’s already sensitive cock to twitch harder in anticipation and desire and he throws his head against the wall to whisper curses, while the pleasure pulses through his veins, pools warm and heavy in his stomach and he feels the pre-come already forming.  
“M’not gonna… l-last…” is the last thing Harry’s raspy voice whispers, tries to pull out of Louis, but the older lad won’t have any of it, releases most of Harry’s cock, but leaving the tip inside and smiles through dark long eyelashes at him with intense sapphire depths in which Harry read all the love he wanted to have directed at him in his life. It takes only another second until Harry spurts the come right into Louis’ mouth, seeing white dots and fucking stars and he lets himself drown in the pleasure that hits him with high waves, taking him under and he shudders through his orgasm.  
Louis keeps Harry’s slowly softening cock in his mouth, sucks even a few times and licks the come properly off of him, when Harry’s come down from his high and pecks his cock one more time for good measure and smiles, because this beautiful perfect creature loves him as much as he loves him right back. So the sapphire-eyed lad pulls his boxers down, takes his own precome-leaking, fucking throbbing cock into his hands, because seeing Harry come is always a sight that had his length going, a few streaks and Louis moans Harry’s name, groans it and sinks fully to the floor, legs widely spread and shaft in his hands.  
Harry stares, eyes dazed and when he realizes what is happening, he jumps into Louis’ lap, laughs so enticingly thrilled and joyous, when scooping Louis’ cock into his own big hands, engulfing most of Louis’ cock easily with those monstrous hands and palming his boyfriend with slow but skilled strokes and bringing him easily over the edge. While he knows exactly when Louis going to come, he has time to lean down and bring his lips to Louis’ tip, taking it into his mouth to taste his boyfriend, just when he comes, spurting the hot liquid out and groaning loudly Harry’s name.  
Harry laughs between swallowing his boyfriend’s come, tastes his favourite flavour and licks his lips, when Louis comes down from his high and crawls up to kiss Louis’ lips and tastes vaguely his own come on Louis’ lips.  
“I can taste my come…” Harry whispers, smiles all silly and stupid, because he just loves Louis so much.  
“And I can taste mine.” Louis returns, wipes Harry’s lips with his thumb and then holds it up for Harry. Harry dives forward, crawls right onto Louis fully and takes his thumb into his mouth to suck softly. Louis lowly moans and Harry smirks.  
“You know I give the best head…” he whispers, voice a notch deeper and succeeding in having Louis’ cock twitch in anticipation. He smirks, sated, but he could easily go another round. He wants more. He wants a lot more.  
Louis laughs, shakes his head and nods his head, “You do give the best head,” Louis easily agrees, because who the hell is he to deny the utter truth? “But actually I was hoping to fuck you into the mattress… and we haven’t fucked a while in the shower either.” Louis whispers, voice soft, eyes shining in that undeniable lust when he flicks his tongue along Harry’s ear and smiles up at the older lad.  
“Yes, please…” Harry’s breathless and deliriously happy, when Louis gets up, gathers the bigger lad into his arm, as though he’s light as a feather and brings the two into the shower, where Louis makes sure to remind Harry of how it feels to be filled out and Louis reminds himself of the feeling of being completely surrounded by the one you love and they both come in the shower, after a good hour of thorough love making, teasing, biting and a bit scratching, because maybe Harry Styles is a bit of a masochist and being scratched is one of his many kinks.  
So when they stumble into bed, wet and warm from the shower, Harry whispers into Louis’ ear to fuck him again, but this time so hard that he’ll feel it for the next few days and who is Louis to deny his loved one any wishes? So he does just that, pounds so hard into Harry that they both scream in pleasure and blindingly overwhelmingly lust and the orgasm that hits both hard, has them seeing stars, white spots and long moments of silence in-between loud panting as they come down from their highs.  
When the couple is finally calm and sated, Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder, smiles when the taller lad whines. “M’sore now…” he utters, but he sounds so utterly happy about that fact, so deliriously, stupidly happy that Louis responds with a smile of his own.  
“Yeah, that was the plan, wasn’it?” Louis smiles cheeky and bright and then he crawls off Harry, toward the pile of clothes they abandoned on the ground and bend down, making a show of exposing his ass, enjoying Harry’s groan in the background as he then pulled a small object from his pockets and returned hastily to Harry’s bedside, sliding back under the covers beside Harry, warmth engulfing him again as he lets out a content sigh.  
“You tease.”  
Louis smirks, brushes his nose along Harry’s nose, “Your tease,” he replies, content with them both being sticky from their come, still warm from their love making and wet from not only the shower-water but now their own sweat. And Harry is just utterly beautiful like this. So utterly pleased and sated.  
“So, how about it?”  
Harry cocks his head toward Louis, leaning back into their pillows and intertwines their fingers automatically, “’cha mean?” he mumbles sleepily, eyes threatening to drop closed.  
“I’m hurt, Styles.” It is obvious, coming three times doesn’t tire Louis out – not even thrusting into Harry twice of the three times doesn’t, so he keeps his humour and energy when he leans to Harry, ruts their bodies playfully together, after aligning them in perfect constellation –their bodies touching from head to toe– and whispers, “didn’t take you for that kind of man.”  
Harry cracks his eyes open to stare at Louis and the confusion that takes over his sleep-clouded jade eyes is so endearing and adorable that Louis bites back a laugh.  
“My proposal, silly.” He replies, voice soft and fond, he leans forward, lips lightly brushing against Harry’s as he whispers, “I wanna marry you. Tell me, you want to marry me too.” It’s not a demand, not an order, just a soft whisper and exclaim of what Louis wants, light like a breeze, sincere and true.  
He takes a chocolate curl into his head –it barely dried– swirls it in his finger, as he patiently awaits Harry’s answer.  
“Shit… I’m… god, of course… yeah, yes… I—did you really have to ask? I—yes. God, yes.” Harry is a stuttering mess after that, new happy tears forming as he shakes his head. He responds to the soft brushes of lips on his own and smiles undeniably wide, until realizing something. Instantly a frown takes over what had been a wide smile, “Oh god, Lou… please tell me, you’re completely sober. ‘Cause if you were drunk… but you can’t…” and Harry is now confused, because fuck, if Louis was drunk. If this some miraculous drunken work that Harry might never recover from the blow, because, there’d be the chance that Louis would not mean it. They had had drunken sex before, but never a proposal. God, if Louis is drunk, then… oh fuck.  
Louis laughs, shakes his head and pecks Harry’s frown away. “Haven’t touched alcohol for two days. Came up with the idea today, though… well, since it’s like 2am, I came up with it yesterday.” Louis smiles, obviously happy, “I didn’t think it through about—Oh.” He stops, his sapphire depths widening, “Shit, almost forgot…” and before Harry can question what his now fiancé means, Louis pulls out a gold band from behind, slipping it fast onto Harry’s right ring finger, smiling at the beautiful result. Harry’s long, lean fingers now beautified with the symbol of Louis Tomlinson. Because Harry is Louis’ and Louis’ only. And now he had that ring to prove it.  
“God, Lou…” And Harry laughs through his tears and leans toward Louis, connects their lips in a slow loving kiss. “Love you so much.”  
“Love you too, baby. Love you too.”  
And then they make love, again. And it feels so different with a certain gold band accompanying Harry as he throws his head back and groans and writhers under Louis’ touch and comes, when Louis thrusts into him.  
Their lives had not started together, but the both of them know it will definitely end together.

**Author's Note:**

> Aha... they have their happily ever after.  
> I didn't add too much details, but I just really wanted to finish it...so yeah ;)
> 
> Hope you like it enough to comment? :)  
> Tell me what you think.
> 
> Maybe you want a Larry-wedding to follow it up, aha? :D
> 
> Oh, all "quotes" on Larry's wall is real. Have not made up any. ALL are real!


End file.
